


To-morrow, And To-morrow, And To-morrow, ("The Milk Of Human Kindness" Remix)

by Maribor_Petrichor



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: M/M, Mentions of 10/Rose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-19 23:44:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1488571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maribor_Petrichor/pseuds/Maribor_Petrichor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and Shakespeare discuss the intricacies of loss and the pain of absent family and friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To-morrow, And To-morrow, And To-morrow, ("The Milk Of Human Kindness" Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rynne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynne/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Milk of Human Kindness](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/45670) by Rynne. 



“A twin loss. Am I right in thinking this, Doctor?”

Will’s voice broke through his thoughts and the Doctor slowly pulled his eyes away from the fire.

“Beg pardon?” He asked as he raised his hand to his head. He rubbed softly at his temple in a pointless effort to try and massage the burgeoning pain away.

“You said earlier, before we...” He trailed off, gesturing to the bed, the covers strewn and mussed from their most recent go round.

The Doctor smiled softly. It was amusing to see such a master of words find himself tongue tied and all over a simple and spirited sexual encounter.

“Earlier you said that we were creatures of a shared pain. I would say it was a twin loss.”

The Doctor nodded, his eyes returning to the crackling hearth. He was sitting on the edge of William Shakespeares bed, fighting off the chill that hugged the four walls of the room. The roaring fire projected outwards, offering a sphere of amber warmth and he closed his eyes trying to let it seep into his bones.

“Your son...” He began softly. “It’s been less than three years.”

Will shifted in the sheets. Though he’d brought up the subject he now seemed uncomfortable with pursuing it any farther.

“Yes...  The loss of someone we love does not just turn them into ghosts. We become spectres as well. Greyed shadows of our former selves, pursuing familiar motions and actions. Our mouths moving, words falling like ash at our feet. It would waste the reapers time to simply take us one by one. No...with his scythe he gathers swathes. But sometimes he merely takes our soul, returning for our bodies at some as yet determined stroke of time.”

“At some disputed barricade.” The Doctor supplied. He had been listening to Will, drawn in by his words, carefully, delicately and perfectly chosen. They echoed all the sentiments that the chambers of his heart could merely lament wordlessly.

“An undisputed barricade.” Will repeated and the Doctor could tell he liked the feel of the words in his mouth.

“Can’t have that one either I’m afraid. A bloke already has dibs on it some 400 years from now.” He said with a soft chuckle.

Will nodded before going on.

“Little Judith seems to act as I feel. She pads about, haunted and silent as lost as though she were missing her right arm.”

Slowly the Doctor rejoined his new lover in bed. Typically he flew from this type of intimacy, but he was still feeling raw, empty yet somehow sick and full. He had seen no harm in reaching out and grasping at some scrap of joy no matter how ephemeral. They shared a kiss, almost masculine in its flavor, its force, tone and taste. That wasn’t a bad thing. It was just different. It’d been awhile since he’d been with a bloke and it necessitated that he change his approach. There was less finesse, less gentleness, less tenderness. It was certainly not the way he would have been with her.

“And what of you, my doting Doctor? When did you lose your child...children?”

“A long time ago. Ages and ages.” He said scrubbing his face quickly lest that heavy sadness begin to cocoon him.

“Does it grow easier with the passage of time?”

“Do you want the real answer?”

“I should always prefer the bare truth to a friendly lie.”

“Then my answer is, No. It never gets easier. Ever. Not for one moment. Not for one breath.”

Will nodded at his side and the Doctor could tell he’d already known the answer before he even asked.

“Then it is as I suspected.”

“It’s like an ulcer, eating away at you and each day it grows a bit larger. You try to bandage it with laughter and adventure and new friends. But it grows...and eventually those adventures and those laughs and those friends start leaving scars of their own. All these new holes open up inside of you. Soon, you’re more scar than man.”

Will sighed before speaking.

“If there were a prize for most cheerful bedmate, Doctor, I fear you would place dead last.”

The Doctor to his surprise started to laugh and after a moment Will joined him.

“I told you I wasn’t much fun.”

“On the contrary, I’ve found you delightful. But if I may pry a bit further...I think we have bridged from speaking about children to other things.”

Will put a hand in the Doctor’s hair gently, affectionately scratching his scalp and he let his fingers thread their way through.

“Is this in regards to the Lady Martha?”

The Doctor’s eyes opened and he realized he’d not even been aware they were closing. Will had been lulling him into pleasant relaxation but the mention of Martha was jarring.

“Martha?” He asked not sure how she even entered the conversation. His mind drifted back to the conversation they’d had just before he’d left their shared room.

“You sure?” She’d asked.

Gods but he hated when they asked that. Martha had been sitting on the bed gazing at him, her face a mask of curiosity and sympathy. Curiosity, well that was always there, from all of them. All of the those he brought along with him were constantly trying to figure him out. He could see it, behind their eyes, their minds whirring like tumblers in a lock, always believing that if they could get the precise combination he’d unlock. Just like that. And out would come spilling all his secrets and trials and troubles.

Ugh...he was turning into a right grump, he’d thought to himself. Why exactly had he been feeling so negative? Of course that’s probably what Martha wanted to know. There was the typical exuberance, the high he got when something amazing, incredible had been surmounted, bested. It never lasted long, mind you but it was there and he usually used that boost to carry him forward, he subsisted on it until the next adventure came. He grab her hand and they’d go rushing back to the TARDIS and-

But there was no her anymore. That familiar hand was gone.

“Yes, I’m fine. Tip-top.” He’d replied offering her a tight smile. “You should get some rest. After all we’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

“Really? Where are we going?”

He’d shrugged.

“No idea but I guarantee it’ll be big.” The smile he gave her this time was more genuine and his words to her seemed to have done the trick. Martha smiled in return and some of the tension left her face.

“Well, goodnight then, Doctor Jones.” He said as he quickly headed for the door and it had nearly closed behind him just as Martha offered a soft, “Goodnight, Doctor.”

Once on the other side he breathed a sigh of relief. He felt restless, twitchy, contemplative. There was something disconcerting about what Lilith had managed. Not the “magic” as it were. He’d seen a fair share of trickery and sleight of hand in his day. No, it was the way she plucked things from his mind. That one little loose thread of emotion that once tugged threatened to unravel him. Like an apt marksman she had hit her target, striking just between his two hearts but instead of dousing his fire she had stoked it.   

“No...” He said. “This isn’t about Martha.”

“Oh. So you and she aren’t-”

“No, no, not at all. She’s just...a girl.”

“If you’ll pardon me, Doctor, she is far more than just a girl. She is a stunning beauty. If I thought for one moment I could convince her to stay with me I wouldn’t hesitate to snatch her from your grasp.To gaze at her is to know that beauty herself is black.”

“Sonnet 132. Have you even written that yet?”

It was true. She was beautiful, in a way that could neither be denied no questioned. Parts of him, old disjointed parts rattled in protest when she came near. Always the same man, yes he was, always the same man. But he was just as much the sum total of his parts as anyone else. And those parts, not quite silenced in that fire and burst of life-giving death were not unanimous. There were voices within him from centuries back, voices to which he only allotted numbers or crimes that cried out for her. Her warmth, her wit, her comfort. Voices that cried out, Will we not be healed? Will we ever-mourn  like puzzle pieces demanding to be put together again?

The Doctor resumed listening to Will just in time to hear something about the treason of his body and how his flesh “rises at thy name”.

“You know, some of your metaphors are more than just a bit obvious.” The Doctor said with a quirk of his brow.

“Only to please the plebians you understand.” Will replied with a twinkle in his eye. “Do you fear the day you might lose her?”

“No.” He answered quickly and then he frowned, surprised how his mouth identified that as a lie long before his brain did. “Yes. Yes, I do. I’ve only know her a short while, hours really but I already know how it will feel when she leaves. It’s different with each of them. Each farewell has a...a flavor.”

Will nodded as though he understood perfectly.

“You should take care not to break her heart.”

“Her heart? No, no Martha and me are just mates. That’s all. She’s got no interest in me.” He said with a surety that wilted a bit in Wills wry glance.

“Yes, of course, Doctor. And who is the namesake of the bitterness on your tongue now.”

“Rose.” He said without hesitation. “Her name was Rose.”

“Ah, this Rose, she has your heart.”

“Both of them as a matter of fact.” He replied softly.

“You wife, was she? Your lover? Your mistress?”

“None of the above actually. We never... I mean, not that I could... I mean of course I could, I just did, didn’t I but...Well...she was...”

“This may be the first time I have ever seen you at a loss for words, Doctor.”

He chuckled mirthlessly.

“Yeah, she could do that to me.”

“Did you bury her?”

“No, no she’s alive and well. She’s just very, very far away. Farther than I can ever travel.”

“May I offer you some rather grim advice, my friend?”

The Doctor smiled pleased that for once someone had bothered to ask.

“I’d be a pretty thick fellow if I turned down advice from a genius.”

“I’ll restrain myself from making a vulgar play of words regarding your use of the word “thick” and continue. Sorrow hangs about your shoulders, Doctor. It’s settled upon you like a shroud. You shine through no doubt. You make merry, you take your joy as it comes but I see it, clinging to you like a sour morning dew. Careful it doesn’t seep into your bones.

The man scrutinized him, narrowing his eyes and observing him more closely.

“You have sung many a dirge, my friend." The poet continued. "I don’t believe your song is through. There are fields of gravestone in your gaze.”

The Doctor nodded slowly. It painful to be so closely and accurately scrutinized and a small part of him wanted to run.

“But-” Will began.

“Oh I was hoping there was going to be a but.”

“But...this world is full of strange things. Portents and portals, windows that that open into parts uncharted. The ancient man believed that Cerberus guarded the Underworld baring it’s gates for the living and the dead. And yet Hercules bested him. Fear not whatever barriers may stand between the two of you. If the past has taught us anything its that even a bad wolf must make way for a noble man.”

The Doctor looked at him wide eyed, his breath having caught in his throat, scarcely daring to believe what his friend had just said.

“Perhaps, just perhaps you will gather your Rose again.” He finished with a soft smile.

Perhaps. The word had never sounded quite so lovely. And even though it might fade in the harsh light of day, right now, at this moment he had what he hadn’t possessed in so long. Hope. A speck, a sliver but hope none the less. And it had come from the most unlikely place of all William And it had come from the most unlikely of places; William Bloody Shakespeare.

He suddenly felt invigorated, recharged and altogether less gloomy and the long aben smile returned to his face, full and beaming.

Will noted it and grinned with relief.

 **"** I feared I had offended you.”

“On the contrary. You've given me something I haven't had in far too long. Faith. ”

“It was my pleasure.”

The Doctor smiled and the soft sounds of the blankets shifting as he moved closer to Will filled the room. “Your pleasure you say?” He began arching an eyebrow. “Perhaps, to show my most sincere gratitude we could explore just what else might be your pleasure.”

The Doctor saw the gleam in Wills eyes just before he leaned in and kissed him. It was a soft but insistent and left little room for argument. Not that he expected any protest from his lover.

“You have no idea how pleased I am with your virility, Doctor. Your eyes are more than likely far older than you appear, Doctor, but there’s something youthful about you, youthful and fair.

Though no malady holds my body

I find myself ‘neath a doctor care

and not its cold and sallow grip

His laugh my humors balance

His words salves to my wounds

I find my long sought elixir

In his orbs and his lips

Will glanced down for a moment before grasping the Doctors had and releasing a soft chuckle,

“A rather rusty verse I fear. It needs a bit of oil and mending.”

The Doctor was silent for a moment, not quite able to speak.

“I’ve...I’ve never heard that before.”

“Of course not, I wrote it for you.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“If you liked it then a thank you will more than suffice.”

The Doctor leaned in and kissed him before bridging his body over.

“Thank you.” He said softly.

“It’s nearly dawn.” The bard said looking towards the window. At the same moment the Doctor reached out for the candle and blew out the flame.

The room was now cloaked in darkness and he found himself eager to just for now leave words behind. “We’ve time.” He whispered simply. “I’m its lord and master, I should know.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have never written the 10th Doctor before, only 11 and I'm not really a 10/Rose shipper so I truly hope I managed to do them and the wonderful story this was based on, justice.


End file.
